Batman Beyond: Inheritance
by imaninja41
Summary: John Blake never wanted to put on the cowl, but now he has to. Aparajita Al Ghul has been trained since birth to do what her gradfather couldn't, bring Gotham to it's knees. "You knew my father?" "I fought with him, for what we believed in. What do you believe in?" "Nothing, Bane never told me what to believe in." NOT ROMANCE! THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS AFTER THE THIRD MOVIE, IN MY MIND.
1. Don't Play No Game That I Can't Win

John Blake gasped, looking around the huge cave, technology he didn't know how to use, gadgets he didn't know the names of, and training equipment that he would be hopeless with. He knew what this meant, Bruce was telling him to pick up the cowl and cape. But why him? How on Earth would he ever be able to use any of this stuff, let alone fight crime with it?

John shook his head, "Oh, there is no way… I would ever be able to do this."

"Of course not." Said a voice, and John looked up, seeing two men, one a very pale, wrinkled, ageing man, and the other, a very dark skinned, wrinkled, aging man. It was the dark skinned one who had spoken, "No one could, unless you had a little help."

The other man nodded, a deep British accent flowing clearly, "We'll teach you everything you'll ever need to know, but you need to realize, that this knowledge, it is being taught in the hopes that you'll never have to use it."

The first man smiled, "My name is Luscious Fox, and I made nearly every one of these gadgets, and more importantly, designed the bat suit."

The British man spoke up, "I am Alfred Pennyworth, and I was master Wayne's butler."

John paused, "Well, what does that make you to me?"

"It makes me, you're teacher." Alfred said, a grim look on his face.

The man stumbled through the alley, ducking into shadows, avoiding light, clutching a small bundle to his chest. He was a monster of a man, ridiculously tall, and well muscled. A metal mask covered the lower half of his face, and he panted, finally stopping his run, kneeling on the ground, and looking down a the bundle, partially unwrapping it, revealing a tiny little head, with eyes screwed shut. He unwrapped it the rest of the way, revealing tiny little hands, clutched into fists, and tiny little toes, curled up.

Bane shuddered, looking down a the baby girl, incredibly small, sickly looking even. For a moment, he worried if she was dead, but she crinkled her nose, moving her tiny arms only slightly. The cold night air had woken her up, but she did not cry.

He worried for her, she had not been born in the best of circumstances, she was barely six months premature, and even he knew that her chance of survival was slim. But her mother had been persistent, and had gotten her the best medical treatment available. But now, Gotham was no longer theirs, and he did not even know if the child's mother was still alive. The woman he had protected since childhood, the woman he had pushed, as a little girl, out of the hell hole they had both been in.

Her mother had loved this baby girl, a child born into war, and by all means, this child was merely a by product of it. A child of shadow and a child of bat. A confusing mixture of right and wrong, which was which, it was not his place to judge. Her mother hadn't viewed her as such, she had loved her as if she was a blessing, not an accident.

He had heard Talia call her a _little angel_. He did not approve, angels were killed in this world, innocence was always violated, purity was dirtied, and peaceful souls were snuffed out.

He decided, this child would be no different than her mother, he would protect this child as well. He would take her away from Gotham, he would raise her, and she, granddaughter of Ra's Al Ghul, would do what her mother and he had failed, permanently end Gotham.

He stood up, slowly, painfully, and wrapped the girl up again, leaving her face uncovered. "Your name is Aparajita*, because you will be unconquerable."

He walked off with the child, there was no doubt in his mind she would come back to this city, with or without him, to take it for her own.

They would disappear, for many years, until she was ready. Then, Batman, Gordon, Gotham City, they would all crumble to her.

*** Aparajita means unconquerable white demon.**

**Okay, this might just be a one-shot, because honestly, I'm not sure if I have time for ANOTHER story… reviews?**


	2. 33 Percent God

It was cold, but it was always cold out here. Snow fell nearly constantly, making sure that this wilderness stayed savage and desolate. My breath swayed upward, creating a little cloud of vapor. I frowned, glaring at my target, worried that it might see the small cloud and run away.

The moose was a big one, huge antlers, that will make perfect tools after he's dead, and thick, long fur, to keep me warm. He shook his big head back and forth, whipping his mane back and forth. He was huge, his bones would be just as big. I took a deep breath, taking out my knife, and gripping the handle tightly.

He lifted his head up, his own breath making vaporized clouds around his face. He looked around, ears pricked straight up. He had heard me. I put the knife between my teeth, using my hands and knees to crawl silently up the tree I was hiding behind. The moose began to relax, turning back to shifting through the snow, looking for grass.

I stood up, carefully walking across the branch hanging above him, teeth clenched tightly around the knife handle. The branch creaked, and his head jerked up, looking around wildly. I took another step forward, and the branch creaked again.

He looked up, his eyes filled with fear, seeing me. He turned, running.

I ran across the branch, jumping from tree to tree, swinging along branches, until he ran into a dead end, a cliff. I dropped down, and he looked up, seeing me standing there.

I took my knife out of my mouth, a knife that was older than me, but had never grown dull, or rusted. The handle was a different matter entirely, it was old wood, rotting and cracking, making small little splinters gouge into my hand, but I could still use it. If I could still use it, I didn't need another.

He pawed the ground, tossing his antlers around, ready to charge. The sun was getting lower in the sky, I didn't have much time, wolfs hunted for us at night. Blood would draw them.

He charged, rushing towards me. I bent my knees, and as he ran at me, I let out a scream, and side stepped, grabbing one of his great big antlers, making him spin.

I gripped my knife handle, shoving it into his throat, and twisting it to the side. He shuddered, trashing, and I threw my legs around him as he fell, landing on top of him, and twisting the knife viscously, slashing at his neck like an animal. He shuddered, and stopped struggling, his eyes glazing over.

I took deep breath, trying to end the adrenalin rush, pulling out my knife, and wiping it off on his matted fur. My hands could not be done likewise with, they too were coated in his blood.

I crawled off of the dead beast, pushing him so his stomach was exposed, and then promptly shoving the knife back into him, dragging it down, making a deep gash into his belly. I put the knife away, pulling my glove off, rolling my sleeve up, and shoving my arm in, and began the process of gutting him.

My mind wandered at I pulled out his entrails, thinking about what I must look like, thin and pale, with long, tangled, dark black hair swirling around in the chilling wind. My hair and skin were a direct contrast, snow and coal. My clothed were animal skins, from dear and moose. My shoes were fox skin on the outside, rabbit skin on the inside. Took me five weeks to make them, the wooden needles I used had kept bending and breaking with the think material stacked on top of each other. But the outcome had been good, the best shoes I had ever had.

"You're dead." Said a deep, smooth, masculine voice. I froze, cursing inwardly. "Right now, I have snuck up behind you, and killed you as you sit there, day dreaming."

I looked over my shoulder, seeing Bane, dressed similarly to me, towering over me. I'm sure he was smirking behind his mask, smirking at my foolishness. Of course this hunt he sent me on would be a test, they usually are.

I sighed, before hurling my knife at Bane. He dodged it, and I ran at him, screaming, and punching his stomach. He took it easily, it was like punching water, it never works.

He tried to punch me, but I ducked, spinning around and shoving my heel into his knee. He grabbed for my arm, but I ducked away, diving between his legs, and standing behind him, grabbing my fallen knife, and hitting the base of his spine with the handle.

There was a crack, as the handle split in two, and the metal blade fell to the ground. Bane spun around, trying to hit me, but I dodged. He tried again, and I ducked. It was a never ending cycle, he was to strong for me to hurt him, but I was getting to fast for him to catch me.

That's how these things were always ending now days, it would go on for hours, until I got to tired, and he managed to hit me. A few hits on me, the fight was over easily. He has said it before, he is a huge bear, and I am a little rabbit. Fast, but not strong.

I grit my teeth, ducking behind Bane, and running into the trees. I hear him chuckle as he followed much slower, casually. "The little rabbit is running."

I jumped into the trees, running along their branches, and pulling myself up high, my white furs blending into the white birch trunks.

He walked into sight, looking around, "Now, where are you?"

_Come closer._

He walked closer to the tree I was hiding in, chuckling quietly.

_A little closer._

He spoke up, "Speed, this you have in plenty, but strength? Common sense? You have none."

I frowned, as he walked right under me, looking at the base of the tree, silent for only one moment, "You never thought of the foot tracks you left in the snow?"

I screamed again, dropping down on top of him, landing on his back, wrapping my arms around his head, and my legs around his shoulders. I had him in a headlock, I could easily snap his neck, killing him. For the very first time, I had won.

I felt a grin creep across my face, before he grabbed my arms, yanking me off of him, and hurling me down into the snow.

But, why? I had won! I had him in a fatal position.

"Better not hesitate again." He said, looking down at me.

I frowned, did he actually expect me to kill him? He who raised me, fed me, and clothed me, until I could do so myself? I could not.

He turned around, walking away towards home, "Carry your own meat home, if you can."

I watched him walk away, and then let myself sink back down into the snow. That moose had to be at least two hundred pounds, and compared to my one hundred pounds? That was a long trip home…

**WITH BRUCE WAYNE:**

I smiled as Selina laid beside me on the couch, laying her head on my chest. She sighed contentedly, smiling. "Uh oh, she's getting affectionate." I mumbled.

She looked up at me, "Don't spoil the mood."

I smiled, wrapping my arms around her, "Wouldn't dream of it."

Silence enveloped us for awhile, until she spoke, "Bruce, you ever thought of having kids?"

Fear immediately ripped through me, "Kids?"

"Yeah, like, a little boy to throw a football around with, or a little girl to take to karate lessons." She prompted.

Brue frowned, "Why is the girl going to karate lessons, and the boy just playing backyard football?"

"Well if it's a girl, it'll take after me, and try to do something with her life almost immediately, a boy will be like you, and not do anything with his life until he's at least thirty." She mumbled, snuggling into his chest.

Bruce bit his tongue, trying to picture a little boy playing catch with him in the backyard, or a little girl wearing white pajamas with a black belt strapped around them, but he couldn't. He tried to picture a tiny little toddler running into their room, afraid of a thunderstorm, or holding a little baby in the hospital, but he could never decide what color the blanket would be. Blue or pink?

"I don't know Selina." Bruce finally said.

"It could be fun." She pressed, "Having someone to call you Daddy, upset when they can't ride a bike without training wheels, or falling out of a tree and scrapping their knee."

"You like kids, don't you?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah, don't you?"

"I never really had much experiences with them." Bruce said honestly.

"Well, we could still have one." She insisted.

Bruce paused, remembering how Alfred had told him of his fantasy, seeing Bruce in that restaurant, with a wife, and a few kids. Alfred had seemed to think Bruce could be a great father. Bruce's father was a great father, he always knew what to say, when Bruce needed to be comforted, or left alone to pout. Could he do the same?

"Yeah." Bruce said, finally submitting, "Lets have some kids."

"… Kids? As in plural?" she said, suddenly very wary about the subject.

"How about ten?" Bruce said, smirking.

"Bruce, I might have hung up the mask and goggles, but I've still got claws."

"Noted."

**WITH APARAJITA AL GHUL:**

I grunted as I finally stopped dragging the deer, dropping it outside of the hut Bane and I lived in. I sighed, dragging the moose over to the hole Bane had dug into the snow, to put the moose carcass in till morning. The wolves couldn't get it that way, and the cold made sure it didn't spoil. I felt slightly annoyed that he dug the hole, I could have done it.

I looked towards the setting sun, just a slither of light in the blackening sky. That's why he dug it then, I was pressed for time. Wolves came soon. I shoved the moose into the deep hole, grabbing the shovel Bane had left out for me, and began to fill the hole. Before long, my arms began to ache, and the moose was reasonably covered up, so I dropped the shovel, turning around to walk into the hut, when a growl stopped me.

I spun around, and saw a huge grey timber wolf staring at me, fang bared, snarling, ready to pounce. I bit my lip, taking a step back, and the wolf took a step forward. He wasn't going to let me go.

"Bane." I whispered, fear gripping my heart. I had been taught to stay away from these animals, they could rip me to shreds easily.

The wolf stepped closer, and I stepped away. "Bane." I called.

The wolf took a deep sniff, and I looked down at my hands, still covered in blood, the scent had led him here. Wolves went into a frenzy when they smelled blood, once that scent filled their nostrils, the hunt was over. Over for the prey, which was me.

"Bane!" I screamed, stumbling away from the wolf, who curled back, ready to pounce, when the front door flew open, and Bane came charging out, stepping between me and the wolf.

The wolf steppes forward, and Bane reeled back, before kicking it's ribs, sending it flying into the tree line.

I expected it to come back for another attack, but it just ran off. Bane turned around to look at me, "You were lucky, it was a lone wolf, it had no pack."

I swallowed, trying not to show how scared I had been, and followed Bane inside.

We were silent for awhile, until he asked, "How heavy was the moose? About two hundred?"

I nodded, "Yes."

"That explains why you beat me then." He mused.

I looked up at him, raising an eyebrow.

He saw his eyes crinkle, he was smiling. "You are getting stronger."

I paused, frowning, "Did you actually want me to break your neck?"

He didn't answer.


	3. Brand New

I crouched in the top of the tree, watching the sun rise up over the mountains in the distance. Once the sun hit the very top of their peak, the mountains would light on fire, turning red and orange and gold. Bane said it was the snow reflecting the sun's rays, like a mirror. I didn't complicate it with science, and reflection. I just called it what it was. Magic. Beauty. Pure.

Bane didn't really like that last word, pure. He would stiffen up whenever I said it. I tried not to pry into it, Bane was like a father to me. He had made it clear though, he was not my father. He was my protector, my teacher, but not my father.

A voice below the tree snapped me out of my trance. "You will need a new knife handle."

I looked down below, seeing Bane, leaning against the tree, staring out at the mountains too, as colors of red and gold swept over them.

I didn't answer him, just listened to see if he would keep talking. I stared out at the mountains, wishing I could be there, standing in the red and gold snow, standing in the snowy fire.

"Can't be like your old one." He said, "It'll have to be out of bone, you'll need to hunt for the right one."

"Can't I just use the moose bone from last week?" I asked.

"This knife is for hunting. Moose aren't hunters." Bane explained, "You need to hunt another hunter, break the bone for your knife, and become that hunter."

"You mean… like, hunt a bear?" I could hunt a bear, it was winter, go into a cave with a spear and a knife, it'll die easy. I've done it before.

"Not a bear." He said calmly, "When you take a bone to be your knife handle, you're hunting _with _the animal. You are not a bear, you're to small, to fast. You have to hunt something else."

I took a deep breath, there were really only two kinds of predators out here.

"You have to hunt a wolf." Bane said. I shivered a little, the thought of what had happened a week ago drifting through my mind. If Bane hadn't been there, hadn't made that wolf go away, I would be dead. "With your hands only."

I stared at him, hoping that this was all a joke. A wolf? With my bare hands? I was going to die before I got that bone.

He just looked up at me from his position on the ground, "Tonight, you will kill the wolf, that, that will be your final test." He turned, walking away.

Final test? Well, I knew what happened after the final test. Bane had told me since I was five, I was born, raised, and trained to do what my mother and grandfather couldn't, destroy Gotham, and make Batman pay.

"Bane, what if I die?"

Bane never stopped walking, "Then I will grieve for you."

I took a deep breath, sliding out of the tree. I had to kill a wolf, with my bare hands, by tonight.

True to his word, when the sun began to set, Bane kicked me out of the house, with no weapon. It was night, wolves hunted at night.

I drew my coat tighter around me, walking away from the hut, into the woods. Just stay to an area with a lot of trees, stay in the air. Wolves can't climb trees. But I can't kill a wolf from a tree, considering I can only use my bare hands.

But a good perch was a start.

As the moon started to glide across the sky, I heard howls off a few miles. A big pack of wolves, that's not good.

I can't take on a whole pack of wolves, I'd need a lone wolf. I stood up on the branch, not wavering or worrying about falling. I ran along my branch, before jumping off of it, and landing on another. My balance was unquestionable, Parkour was a skill I had mastered long ago. **(AN: Imagine Connor's tree running in Assassin's Creed III)**

I dashed along other branches, lone wolves tended to stay as far away from packs as possible, but still have good hunting grounds. There was a spot by the east river, filled with fox dens and rabbit holes. A lone wolf might be there.

I see him, as I land. A lone wolf. His grey coat shone in the moonlight, his jaw firm and teeth like daggers. His paws were huge, and his claws looked like huge hooks that could tear into my flesh and rip it apart with ease.

Wolves were meant for hunting. Bane said that when my knife was made with the bone of a wolf, I'd be fighting with the wolf. I understood why I couldn't be fighting alongside a bear. I was small, and quick. A wolf was small and quick too, but had a level of fierceness that I simply didn't have. No one would fear me.

I wanted to be feared! I want to be a great assassin like my mother, and my grandfather. I want to pass this test, and go to Gotham City. And I will do what my mother and grandfather failed to do.

Then it starts here, with this wolf.

I dropped down to the ground, and he immediate whirled around, growling at me. He was young, but had many scars on his face and body. He was an experienced fighter.

He took a step towards me, groans ripping from his throat, telling me to go away. I'm a child and he knows that. He knows he could kill me.

I either step into my future here, or I die. There is no alternative.

He jumped for me, and I step to the side. He hit's the tree behind me hard, yelping. I jumped on him before he could move, trying to grab for his neck. His teeth clamped onto my arm, tearing trough flesh and muscle. I screamed, trying to sit straight. I punched him in the head, again and again, but he wouldn't let go. So I took my knee, and ground it into his stomach.

He still wouldn't let go. That grip was the only chance he had at living, and he knew it. I pulled my fist back, and hit the tip of his nose with all my strength.

The scream he let out was a noise that would haunt me in my deepest nightmares. But he let go of my arm.

The minute he did, I switched my arms around to strangle him from behind. I held him until he stopped kicking.

I pulled my hands away, staring at the body of the wolf.

He was a predator, and I had killed him.

I would now be a predator.

**TWO DAYS LATER:**

"What is your name?" Bane asked.

"Aparajita Al Ghul."

"What are you?"

"I am an assassin. I live in the shadows, and erase my breath. I wait until my enemies weapons are down and forgotten to strike."

"Why do you fight?" He asked.

I held up my new knife, a white bone handle with an image of a wolf carved into it. "To restore my family."

"Who do you fight for?"

"My deceased mother."

"And what must you do?"

"I must destroy Gotham city, and only then will my mother's ghost rest peacefully."

"Who must you kill?"

"Batman."


	4. An Open Letter To NYC

I had to walk across the frozen wasteland of a far off corner in Siberia, into the heart of Russian. It took three weeks to trek through that land, especially since Bane wasn't with me. I remember when I was younger, Bane would put me on his shoulders, and walk me through large banks of snow.

As I had gotten older, Bane had decreased in his protection over me, allowing me to walk alone, even sending me out into the cold for days to test my skills. At times he had randomly attacked me to teach me to be alert.

I had heard about buildings and houses before, in books, but I had never seen them with my own eyes. Human architecture was truly magnificent.

But I wasn't here to admire the scenery.

Vantork was a powerful man, he had dirty deals in just about every government on earth. He ran the mercenary trade in Russia. He is _not _a man you willingly cross. If you do, you tend to disappear for awhile. If or if not you show up again, that depends on whether what you offer him reimbursed him for what you took. He is a man that doesn't hold grudges, he lets the money decide whether you live or die, and from what Bane has told me about money, when the economy is good, then it'll buy you anything, but when it becomes about who kills who rather than profit, money will do you nothing other than pad your coffin.

But right now it isn't about murder or death, it's just about money.

I stared over the desk at Vantork, "I need to get over seas."

He nodded, "I can arrange for it, but you're an interesting case. No records, no story. It'll cost you, and much more than the fee for this conversation."

I waved my hand, "Money means nothing to me, but I have plenty of it. Now, stop beating around the bush, and tell me what one trip will cost me."

"That depends on where you're heading."

"Gotham City, New York." I said.

He nodded, a small smile stretched across his face. "Now, _that _certainly will cost you."

"How much."

"Six thousand euros."

"Done."

One day later, I was sitting in the cargo hold of an airplane, along with a mother and child, and three men. The men were mercenaries, every single one of them had guns and knives. I could tell just by looking at them, the battles they've had, and the lives they've taken.

This is a mercenary transport, and the best part is no one cares who I am, as long as I've paid my money. Another plus? There won't be a record anywhere on Earth about this flight.

These men are scum, they have no right to life, because the people they've killed weren't soldiers, they were women and children. They didn't give a damn about the lives they were destroying, as long as they were paid.

But that's no reason not to make friends.

"Gentlemen?" I asked, walking over to join in on the poker game, "Do any of you know a good military grade supplier in Gotham?"

One of them, in his thirties looks up at me, a scar running down from his right temple to his nose, across his eyelid. "Who are you, kid?"

"Nobody." I said, sitting down and picking up my hand, "Absolutely nobody."

But once I was in Gotham… that was when I truly understood the gravity of my job here. When I walked down the street, people bumped into me, constantly. These buildings were taller than any trees I had ever seen. But I had to get to my first destination.

So I walked into an alleyway, and managed to climb down a manhole. I followed the map Bane had given me, and walked a ways in the sewers, until I came to the marked room.

There were stacks and stacks of guns and ammunition lining the walls, and a pine desk, barely standing, in the center. I set my duffle bag down on the table, and sat down in the chair carefully.

I leaned back in my chair, watching the putrid water fall and run down the tunnels. So this was where everything had started in my mother's battle?

I browsed the internet, going over the list Bane had left me. Bank accounts, contacts, safe houses, and snitches. I'd better contact these people then. I typed away at the laptop all day, accessing back records, establishing my contacts, bribing snitches, and then getting eight different fake ID's for different occasions. If I need to be over eighteen, if I needed to be over twenty-one, or if I needed to be incredibly under aged. And then variations of those age groups, with my residence listed in several different parts of New York. If my travels took my to Brooklyn, an ID from Gotham would be suspicious.

After a few searches, I found out that Gotham was far from crime free. Yes, organized crime was gone, so there was no more mob, but there were still gangs, and lots of them. Car bombs, murder, stealing, the usual that came along in turf wars. Batman had returned two years ago, but after seeing several clips of out of focus photos of this supposed Batman, and a youtube video some kid had taken I quickly came to a conclusion.

This Batman was not my father.

**WITH JOHN:**

I had taken to just living in the bat cave a few years ago, easier to do training, and I didn't have to pay rent. And once night came around, so would the Batman. Because four years ago, things became bad in Gotham City. Gangs rose up everywhere, most of them kid gangs, and drug traffickers, but gangs none the less. Sounds easy to bust, right? Wrong. Here's the problem, no matter how many gangs you take down, a new one pops up right where you took down the old one.

Because as much as gangs were bad, people on the streets needed protection from other gangs. So they throw their lot in with the bigger gang so their store doesn't get robbed, pay a fine every month, and get their money's worth of protection.

I had no problem with that, when you're on the streets, you make a call to save your skin. But the more money a gang gets, the more powerful it becomes. And that was what I had a problem with.

So Batman went out every night, and he tried with all his physical and mental strength to keep the gang problem down. And he saved a lot of people, but he was no where close to getting rid of the problem.

I dropped to the ground, immediately getting into a push up position. I have to do two hundred of them, and that's just the warm up.

After Bruce had left me the bat cave, Alfred had gotten my stamina up, and showed me several techniques he had learned in the military. But it hadn't been enough, so nine years ago I had left, and searched out every traditional martial arts teacher I could find.

And yes, I did find one. Her name was Lady Shiva. And she was evil. I don't mean tough ninth grade algebra teacher evil, I mean _a different _kind of evil. The kind of evil where she takes one look at you, sees your arm is broken in two places, you can't see through one eye, and there's probably some internal bleeding going on from a jacked up rib, and she says, "Pick yourself up, ten mile run. Stop being a weakling!"

_That _kind of evil.

But… I finished my push ups and looked down at my shirtless body… it paid off very well. (**A/N: Imagine Dick Grayson's body type**)

Alfred's voice popped up out of nowhere, "If you're done admiring yourself Master Blake, Mr. Fox is on the line, and he wants to go over a new addition to the Bat mobile with you."

I nodded, "You got it Alfred."

At first, having a butler was very weird, especially since I didn't pay for him. After Bruce left Alfred a little money in his will, Alfred bought stock in the business all of Wayne Enterprises had been transferred to. With Talia dead, a lot of her assets went to that company, and they climbed back up to most powerful in the world years ago. So needless to say, Alfred made a pretty penny off of that. With all the shares he's bought in it, Alfred owns eight percent of that company.

And eight percent of Wayne Enterprises, it's apparently a lot. Because he manages to run all of Batman's necessities, and keep the home for boys above them running through many donations.

I got dressed, and went to the phone, "Fox? Yeah, I'd like to go over the designs. Last week I was trying to sneak into a warehouse, and got in a tight spot. I called for the car, but there was a glitch or something… Thanks, I'll stop by later today."

**LATER THAT NIGHT, WITH GORDON:**

"I need to retire." He groaned, stretching out in his chair. He was beginning to really hate young teenagers and their tendency to form groups to kill off another group.

If he had to look at one more dead kid, he was going to cry. And Gordon never cried. Gangs could never be stopped, it was a fact becoming clearer and clearer to him. The moment you uprooted one, three more sprang up and squabbled for it's territory. Like grey hairs.

Nasty little bastards.

Grey hairs were about all he had left now.

"Damn kids and their warfare." He cursed. But it wasn't all kids. Most of these gangs were run by grown men, who took advantage of angry kids. And Gotham had far to many angry kids. Children of prostitutes, rapes, and psychotics.

He honestly couldn't blame them fully. In their positions, with their same options, and their hunger to be accepted, he would mostly likely have chosen the same path.

He's lost in his train of thought, until there's a knife against his throat. "James Gordon?"

A female voice, young. Teenager to early twenties. Slight Russian undertone, and slow to speak. Not frightened hesitation, more like she's just not used to it.

"Yes, are you here to kill me?" He asked, slightly amused. "If you are, make it quick, I'm a busy man. And try not to get blood all over the carpet."

"Gotham is in shambles, you've gone to war over it many times."

Gordon suppressed a laugh, "Yeah, against the mob. But the mob was one organization. Gangs are thousands of smaller ones, they aren't connected in any way, so it's like trying to bail out a cruise ship with a tea-cup, while it's raining."

"… What could make a dent in it? What could pull Gotham out of this ditch?"

Gordon considered her question, vaguely noting how familiar this situation was to him. "We would need a major victory. There's a couple large gangs around, bringing them all down at once would be the best scenario I could think of, but it's next to impossible. Like I said, they aren't connected-"

"Anything else?"

"They'd need a face behind the deed."

"Like Batman?"

"No." Gordon said quickly, "Not like Batman. They need a hero with a face, not a hero with a mask. They need someone like-"

"You?"

"Yes. But new. People always want new heroes along with their old war heroes." Gordon allowed himself a small smile, despite being in such a vulnerable position. "Now, why the questions? You have a school report to do or something?"

The grip on the knife tightens for a moment, and he fears she's about to kill him.

"You won't see me for awhile." She said quietly. "But when you do, I will either be dead, or I will have what you need."

And then she's gone.

Gordon frowned as he looked out the window, searching for a figure, trying to see her. But there was no trace.

He picked up his phone, dialing an untraceable number given to him by a younger version of his late friend. "Gordon here, I've got a small notice for you. Just someone you might wanna keep an eye on."

But John didn't see her that night. Or the next. Eight weeks went by without another word.

Gordon feared the girl dead.


End file.
